


Mirkwood

by Maggiemaye



Series: Under the Mountain [10]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Family moments, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Physical Disability, Reunions!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggiemaye/pseuds/Maggiemaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, I will never cease to find it strange. Your choice is beyond my comprehension, Tauriel. And yet I see that what you have is…precious, indeed. Looking at your family…” He pauses, choosing his words. “I can see why this was worth the risks you took. Even if it meant living apart from your home.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the Mirkwood it is often difficult to tell whether the hour is dawn, dusk, or high noon. The forest has become so overgrown and dark, even more so since the last time Tauriel has set foot there, that the sky is mostly blocked. But a wood elf knows the patterns of day and night in her own home, no matter how much sickness lies upon it.

Tauriel rises quickly with the dawn, faint though the light is, so that she can inspect their forest surroundings while the others are abed. This has been her routine for the past five days, taking solitary time to immerse herself in her former home (though she always remains within earshot of their company.) It is as though she is captain of the guard again, keeping a watchful eye on each gnarled tree, touching each one as she passes by. It has taken her no time at all to get reacquainted.

She frowns to see the sickness deepening, even along the Old Forest Road. They have taken the longer southern path in order to avoid the perils that lurk elsewhere in the forest, giant spiders still chief among them. There has been no sign of the creatures thus far, because they have not strayed even a hair’s breadth from the safety of the path. It is one of the rules that she and Kili have taken pains to impress upon their curious children: they are never to leave the path or go off alone under any circumstances. She does not even want to think of the danger they would be in if they were in the forest without protection. Eronel, in particular, would be a prime target because of his limp.

A part of her is relieved that this portion of their journey to Imladris is nearly over. In the next day or so they will emerge on the other side of the Mirkwood and leave it behind. But even though she will rest much easier when her children are safely through the forest, the thought of leaving still brings a pang to her heart, much stronger than she had expected.

When she returns to the place where they have bedded down, she finds her family awake and boisterous as ever. Eronel and Therin are in the middle of an arm wrestling match, with Kili enthusiastically playing referee. Tauriel grins at the concentration on both her sons’ faces, staring at each other from either side of a large stump. Therin is quite young, but he is already broad of shoulder and possesses more dwarven hardiness than any of his siblings can boast. Eronel's lean muscle can compete with his brother's baby weight for now, but it will only be a short time before Therin overtakes him in strength.

Nethelion and Rhuna have taken sides, as have most of the royal bodyguards, so each brother has a robust cheering section. For a moment Tauriel considers telling them to keep their voices down, but dismisses the idea as a waste of effort. Travelling with a dwarven prince, four children, and a contingent of royal guards—not to mention a carriage and several horses—does not exactly make for a stealth operation; they have been making noise since they entered the Mirkwood, so there is no sense in trying to be cautious now. Belatedly, she remembers that they do not need to sneak through the forest at all. Their carriage bears the royal seal of Erebor, and they have sent word to Thranduil of their intentions long since. The Old Forest Road is for public use; they have every right to be here.

Relaxing a little, Tauriel lets them have their fun, looking on in amused silence as the contest comes to a head. Despite the obvious differences in size, the brothers appear well-matched.

“Watch out, little brother,” Eronel teases, tossing his head to shake an errant strand of black hair from his face. “Maybe you’re not as strong as you think.”

“Don’t listen to him, Therin,” Rhuna encourages, grinning. “You’ve got him! Just a little more.” Therin doesn’t look at his sister or at Eronel; his face is comically scrunched as he throws all his strength into his arm. And indeed, it is enough to push Eronel’s arm down to the stump. Immediately a great cheer erupts among the dwarrow, and Therin’s eyes light up as he catches sight of her.

“Amad, did you see?” he shouts, scurrying to her side. “I won!”

“I did see,” she replies, smiling brightly as she smooths Therin’s bright red hair. “You both performed very admirably.”

“It was the angle,” Eronel explains, even-tempered as ever. “Just so everyone knows. His arm is too short and I couldn’t get the right leverage.”

“Mm-hm.” Kili’s voice is teasingly skeptical as he claps Eronel’s shoulder. Tauriel laughs along, but she is a little skeptical herself. The match had come to a very abrupt end, after all, and Eronel is taking his “loss” remarkably in stride. She locks eyes with her son, raising a questioning brow. Eronel simply shrugs in response.

“Breakfast?” asks Nethelion hopefully. Tauriel nods at her elder son as she moves to sit beside him. Kili takes her other side, kissing her cheek in greeting.

“Of course. We have lembas, or don’t you remember?”

Her statement is met by a chorus of no less than five groans, Kili pouting along with his children. One of their guards snorts at the prince’s antics, as discreetly as a dwarf can.

“Please, anything but more _lembas,”_ Kili whines, speaking the word as though it is the vilest curse. He places his chin upon her shoulder. “Dwarves need _meat,_ or we’ll starve. We’ll wither away. We’ll shrink down to nothing.”

“I hardly think you are quite that fragile,” she counters dryly, touching her nose to his. The skin around his eyes crinkles as he grins. Kili is no longer the lad she met all those years ago, right here in this forest. Tauriel finds him all the more pleasing for the passage of time on his face.

Their nuzzling turns into a long kiss that is cut off by more groaning from their children.

“Ugh, not first thing in the morning!”

“Good thing we haven’t eaten yet.”

“I think I’ve lost my appetite anyway.”

“You’ll survive.” Kili sounds entirely unapologetic, kissing her cheek, reaching around to muss Nethelion’s hair before he can dodge. “This is where your amad and I first met, after all. This exact spot.”

“Give or take a few hundred miles, of course.”

“Of course. And I charmed her with my battle prowess, isn’t that right?”

“Was this before or after I finished rescuing you from a pack of giant spiders, dear husband?” she asks sweetly, raising a brow. Nethelion and Eronel laugh at their father’s expense. But Rhuna and Therin look at each other, going pale at the mention of spiders, and Tauriel regrets her words. And, as if choosing the timing for dramatic effect, something rustles in the trees directly above them.

Tauriel and Kili are instantly on their feet, weapons drawn, pushing their children back towards the carriage. Nethelion makes a sound of protest, but Kili cuts him off before he can say a word.

“Help your brother,” he commands, all cheerfulness gone. Nethelion obeys with a huff, grabbing Eronel’s cane and letting his brother lean against him as they hobble away.

The rustling grows louder. Tauriel sees their guards take up arms and move in, ready to strike when the creature reveals itself. It is no spider, however, but a regal elf that Tauriel had thought never to see again.

“Legolas?”

Her childhood companion has hopped down from the tree, haughty as ever, but with a smile for her. Tauriel gapes at him, a strange mixture of fondness and shock rising in her like a cloud. She has not seen Legolas in forty years, since the day they had fought together in the Battle of the Five Armies.

“You forget part of the story, dwarf,” Legolas says, brushing imaginary dust from his clothing and looking down his nose at Kili. “Need I remind you that we locked your company in our dungeons, and that it took a halfling to rescue you?”

“You shouldn’t jump out of trees like that. We could easily have shot you, you know,” Kili grumbles, motioning for the guards to stand down. Legolas quirks the corner of his mouth into what might be considered a smile. Tauriel gives the exchange less than half an ear, still stunned by the sight of her old friend.

“Tauriel,” he says, turning to her once more. “It is good to see you, _mellon nin.”_

She can find no words. Kili places a tentative, questioning hand on her elbow.

“I regret that you have had to camp this way,” Legolas goes on, perhaps to cover the silence. “My father’s house can shelter you far better than anywhere else in these woods.”

“That is quite unnecessary, _mellon,”_ Tauriel says, finding her voice before Kili can make a snide remark about Thranduil’s idea of shelter. “But please, accompany us as we travel through the wood. It has been so long that the path is quite difficult for me to find.”

This is not true. The Mirkwood has changed since the last time Tauriel has seen it, but not so much that she cannot decipher the secrets of the forest. Legolas is likely well aware of this, but he accepts anyway.

“Amad?”

Therin’s voice is small and uncertain. Tauriel turns to see that her brood has crept out from behind the carriage, peering out at the stranger that has dropped, quite literally, from the sky.

“Amad, who’s this?” Nethelion demands with a suspicious frown, placing himself in front of his younger siblings. He reminds her so strongly of Thorin Oakenshield in that moment that Tauriel almost grins.

“It’s all right,” Kili reassures them, though he does not exactly sound pleased with the turn of events. “This is Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm.”

“A friend,” Tauriel clarifies. She watches Legolas take in the sight of her children, feeling nervous in a way that she cannot quite understand. It is obvious where his eyes will linger. Nethelion, who could pass for an elf if it were not for his thick Durin mane. Little Therin, their flame-haired dwarfling with his mother’s ears. Rhuna, whose beard is arguably more impressive than any of her brothers’. And Eronel, leaning heavily on his cane. He is wincing and squeezing his eyes shut; the sudden activity will have put painful pressure on his leg. Legolas gives nothing away with his expression as he watches them.

“Why don’t the two of you scout ahead while we pack up?” Kili suggests quietly. “You can report back to us when you’re ready.”

Legolas nods, tearing his eyes away from their brood. Before she follows him down the path, Tauriel bends to kiss her husband’s mouth.

“Thank you. I just…”

“I know.” He gives her a little smile. “Take all the time you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course Legolas had to make an appearance at some point :) This was supposed to be another one-shot, but it got away from me a bit. The next part is in the works and should hopefully be finished soon. Comments mean the world, so feel free to let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

“I did not think to see you back in the Mirkwood.”

The conversation between them is stilted, at first.

“I am here for a short time only,” Legolas replies. “It is lucky that we are both passing this way.”

Tauriel nods, not sure what to say next. She remembers a time when she and Legolas had walked these very paths in easy camaraderie, which makes it all the more impossible to pretend that things between them are the same. She takes in his profile as they walk side by side. He is still not given to smiling, but she thinks that his brow looks a little less troubled than she remembers. Perhaps the years away from the Mirkwood have done her friend some good.

“It seems that the dwarves have welcomed you with open arms, _mellon.”_

He slides her a look from the corner of his eye, and there is just enough teasing in it that Tauriel has to smirk in return.

“Well, the ones who had not passed their second century were quick enough to come around. It was the elders that took convincing, and even now it is clear that many of them will never warm to me.” It is not a particularly troubling thought. Tauriel has never been one with a wide circle of friends; even among elves she had been given somewhat of a wide berth.

“Things are all right for you, then, under the mountain?”

“Yes, _mellon,_ things are fine. The Valar have blessed me.”

Legolas nods. “That is a relief. I hoped that you would be content.”

“I am.”

She does not elaborate further.

“And yet?” he prompts her, and she sighs, releasing a bit of the tension she has held since he’d dropped into their camp. She should have guessed that he would hear the unspoken in her statement, even after so many years.

“And yet I miss the forest, deeply. Sometimes I do not see the stars for weeks at a time. And I think that my mother in law may still despise me…” She looks up to see Legolas fighting back a smirk.

“Are you _laughing_ at me?”

“I cannot help it!” He grins in earnest. “I simply never thought I would see the day when Tauriel of the forest guard would complain about a mother in law, of all things.”

She laughs in spite of herself. “I suppose it must seem very strange to you.”

“Oh, I will never cease to find it strange. Your choice is beyond my comprehension, Tauriel. And yet I see that what you have is…precious, indeed. Looking at your family…” He pauses, choosing his words. “I can see why this was worth the risks you took. Even if it meant living apart from your home.”

“The Mirkwood has long since ceased to be my home,” Tauriel says quietly. It feels strange, almost wrong, to express such a thing among the very trees that sheltered her for so long. But the truth of it is undeniable. “I cannot imagine living anywhere other than Erebor. Though it does not always feel natural to live within stone, it is home to my children, and I have friends enough among the dwarrow.”

“And your husband.”

“Kili, yes.” She is a little embarrassed to hear the obvious fondness in her voice as she speaks his name. Legolas frowns, but it seems to be more of a thoughtful expression than an angry one. At least, Tauriel hopes so. There was a time when she could read his face effortlessly, but that time has long passed.  

“I would make the same choice again in a heartbeat, mellon. There is nothing that could have stopped me.”

“Tauriel.” He stops walking and turns to face her. She wills herself not to avoid his heavy gaze, meeting it head-on. “I regret the way we parted.”

His eyes bore into hers, and Tauriel can see that the words do not come easily. Indeed, there is a stone in her own stomach at the turn their conversation has taken. Probably, she should press him for more. She could insist that he name and describe the ways in which he hurt her, disrespected her now-husband, and behaved childishly at nearly every turn. But he knows. Tauriel can see it from the plaintive, beseeching way he looks at her. He knows. And Tauriel finds that she is simply not interested in reopening old wounds. It is a gift to be reunited with this friend, and she does not know when they will cross paths again. She would rather ease his burden rather than add to it.

“We have both grown since then, Legolas,” is all she says, reaching out to firmly clasp his shoulder. He sighs, relieved, and Tauriel hopes that his heart will be a little less heavy the next time they meet.

 

* * *

 

In the wake of their unexpected (and, as far as Kili is concerned, unwanted) visitor, a rare silence has settled over their little camp. Kili leaves his children to their own devices as they each roll up their blankets and pack them into the carriage. He checks twice to ensure that no one has left anything behind. And when all of this is done, he gathers the four of them around him.

“All right,” he says, leaning against the carriage. “A strange elf just jumped out of a tree and walked away with your mother. I know you have thoughts about this.”

They take a brief moment to consider what to say.

“His hair is nice,” says Rhuna, obviously struggling to find a redeeming quality in the newcomer.

“But I don’t think he liked us.” Therin finishes her thought, a little timidly, as though afraid Legolas might hear.

Nethelion is less considerate. “He looked at us the way that woman did in Dale, when she realized Rhuna was a ‘dam. Remember?”

Kili frowns at the reminder.

“But,” Eronel puts in, ever the reasonable voice among his siblings, “maybe he was just shocked. I guess he hasn’t seen Amad in a long time?”

“No, indeed, not since we took the mountain back. Well before you were born. But the two of them grew up together, and they were close for a very long time.”

“Why doen’t Amad ever talk about him?”

Kili shifts from one foot to the other. He feels distinctly uneasy trying to explain Tauriel’s relationship with Legolas, but it seems that the task has fallen to him for the time being. The fact that three of his four children tower above him, staring intently down at him, only adds to the discomfort.

“Well,” he begins, “you know how she is. There is a lot about the Mirkwood that she’d like to forget. And she and Legolas didn’t exactly part on the best of terms. But you’ll need to ask her if you want to know more.”

They fall quiet again.  Kili doesn’t blame them—it is a lot to digest in less than an hour’s time.

“Are all elves like him, Adad?” Eronel inquires, and Kili is reminded that this is the closest they have ever been to another one of the Eldar. They may have spied Thranduil’s messengers from a distance from time to time, but the opportunity never arose for them to speak to one. It is one of the reasons that Kili and Tauriel had decided to take their children along on this extended trip across Arda—though they’d long ago agreed to make their home in Erebor, they both understand the importance of seeing as much as possible of the world outside the mountain. Many of Kili’s growing-up years had been spent wandering, with no real home at all, while Tauriel had been cloistered away in the Mirkwood for the vast majority of her long life. Between the two of them, they have been determined to seek a middle ground for their own offspring.

Kili had been fully aware that this trip will give his children the chance to get acquainted with other elves. Of course, he wants that for them. He just hadn’t expected it to be quite so abrupt, with _this_ elf in particular.

“Most of the ones I’ve run across, yes.” He gets around to answering Eronel’s question, noting the way they all hang onto his every word. “The folk of Rivendell are different than the ones here, but you still probably won’t see any of them crack a smile. It’s just the way of elves.”

“Not Amad!” Therin springs to his mother’s defense. “She smiles.”

“True. But she’s special, isn’t she? Your amad is not like other elves I’ve known.”

“I wonder if he would teach me how to do those little braids he has,” Rhuna muses. Nethelion looks askance at her.

“You’re going to _talk_ to him?”

“Well, he’s Amad’s friend! Maybe he’s…better, once you talk to him a little.”

Kili snorts before he can stop himself. Frankly, the idea of Prince Legolas interacting with children of any age is beyond imagining. Even if said children belong to a close friend he has not seen in decades.    

“I don’t trust him,” Nethelion scowls.

“Careful there.” Kili keeps his tone easy, hoping to diffuse some of Nethelion’s quick adolescent temper. Though he is far from fond of the woodland prince, he thinks it wouldn’t be quite fair to poison the well against him before Tauriel even has the chance to properly introduce him. “He’s the prince of Mirkwood, after all. Though I hear he doesn’t spend much time here anymore.”

“Don’t know who would,” his eldest son grumbles. “All these creepy trees. I’ll be glad to see the back of this place.”

 _“I_ like the trees,” Therin puts in, drawing himself up tall. “And the bats. If there weren’t giant spiders I’d live here forever.”

“You’re crazy, then.”

A soft sound of pain from Eronel interrupts this exchange. He is rubbing at his leg in earnest.

“Time for the salve, son?” Kili asks softly.

“It’s fine,” he snaps. His sharp tone is the clearest indication Kili needs that it is, in fact, not fine at all. Eronel stalks away from their circle as best he can, aided by his cane, hoisting himself awkwardly into the carriage and shutting the door behind him.

Kili sighs. Eronel is so mild of temperament most of the time; it is easy to forget that his pride can be bruised, too.

“It’s this _forest,”_ Nethelion says. “We’ve been in the dark too long, Adad. It’s getting to him.”

“Son, I think you could be right about that.”

It is just as well that the tall figures of his wife and Legolas have come back into view. They are speaking quietly, but easily; as they draw nearer, Kili can see a smile gracing Tauriel’s face.

“Another day’s trip, at least,” she reports, placing a hand upon his shoulder. Kili nods, having expected such.

“We’re ready to go whenever you give the word. Which should be soon, if you ask me. Some of us are ready to be rid of the MIrkwood for a long while.” He jerks his head toward a still-scowling Nethelion.

“Then we shall be away as quickly as possible. But first, there is someone very important that I would like for you all to officially meet.” She nods her head toward Legolas standing stiffly beside her, not a hair out of place. “This is my friend, Legolas. He and I have known each other for a very long time.” She gestures to their children. “My sons, Nethelion and Therin, and my daughter, Rhuna.”

Legolas clears his throat.

“Well met,” he says to them with a stiff nod, his expression closely resembling that of a skittish horse. In return, Nethelion’s eyes narrow, Rhuna stands stock-still, and Therin begins to edge closer to his mother’s side. It is just as exquisitely awkward as Kili had imagined, and he cannot stifle the tiniest of laughs at the prince’s expense. 

“Was there not a fourth?” Legolas asks, shooting Kili a look.

“In the carriage already. I think he’s in a fair bit of pain.” Kili addresses this to Tauriel, who tightens her mouth into a line. “But he’ll want to be introduced, so we may as well look in on him.”

They open the carriage doors to find Eronel is seated within, his back to them. He turns toward the sound of their arrival, revealing a jar of herbal paste in his hand and the shrunken stump that is his right leg. It ends above the knee, or where the knee should be, and scars still pucker along its surface. Leaning next to him is a wooden stick with leather straps, a contraption made especially for him courtesy of Bofur. The stick enables him to walk, but after a while it rubs at his skin and makes him ache, so he removes it periodically to rest. Eronel flushes when he notices Legolas watching along with his family, but says nothing.

Kili and Tauriel look discreetly away as he pulls his pants leg down to flop, empty, over the edge of the seat. Legolas, however, is regarding Eronel as if he is a puzzle.

“How did you come by this malady, child?” he asks in his blunt way. “Elves are not born with such…afflictions.”

Tauriel stiffens immediately, out of long protective habit. “My son is not here to satisfy your curiosity.”

Her voice has gone low and dangerous. Legolas raises his hands in surrender, blue eyes wide, no doubt wondering what he has done wrong. Eronel, meanwhile, looks silently up at his mother with a sympathetic expression that is heartbreakingly familiar. Kili feels his chest tighten as he watches.

He sighs, supposing it was bound to come up sometime.

“Come on, your highness.” He leans up to clap Legolas on the shoulder. “Let’s have a chat, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been slowly chipping away at this little section, and it's finally finished! Turned out a little heavier than I expected, though. Things will become clear in the next part, which is in the works as we speak. 
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone who has been reading along so far, from the bottom of my heart. I was a little nervous to get into a new fandom, but you've given me a super warm welcome and made me feel right at home. Please keep letting me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

The elf prince isn’t the first to make assumptions. Eronel has heard every theory in the book about his leg, but most strangers do assume that it is a birth defect. He never feels the need to correct them, mostly because it would be far too much effort to get into the real story every time someone asks for it.

The real story is that there had been an accident in the mines, a rock fall that could easily have killed him. Eronel had been a meager nineteen years old, with dwarfling curiosity about anything to do with mining, so Nori had happily agreed to take him down. He’d always heard dwarrow talk about the dangers of mining, and the near-misses with rock falls, but it had never occurred to Eronel that the danger might touch him.

The rocks had slid down from the top of the mine, quick as a flash, and Eronel had almost been able to dive out of the way. Nori had almost been able to shield him. Almost. Almost.

He still remembers the sound his bones had made as they’d crunched under the force of the rock fall. Elven bones were not made for such an impact, Oin had said later. Pain had exploded in his leg and behind his eyes, white-hot as forge fire. It had only been a split second of agony before he’d passed out, but Eronel still hasn’t found a way to forget it.

He’d been on such a potent cocktail of pain draughts afterwards, courtesy of both Oin and his mother, that he does not remember much else of that day. But certain phrases have stayed with him.

_Are you a healer or aren’t you, lass?_

_This is beyond…I can’t…I can’t…_

_What do you mean, you can’t? What about Laketown?_

_That was different, Kili, that was poison! I can’t just build bones out of splinters, I can’t do everything!_

_Then we don’t have another choice. You two hold him down, he’s going to thrash—_

Eronel hadn’t cried upon awakening fully and seeing the stump that remained of his leg. Indeed, he has gone twelve years without it now, and still hasn’t shed so much as a tear. (However, it remains the only time he has ever seen his mother weep.) What he _had_ cried about was the stony silence that had emerged between his parents in the weeks following the accident. They’d both been very attentive, of course, and spent equal amounts of time at Eronel’s side as he’d recovered. But he’d almost never seen them together during that time, and on the rare occasions when they were, the two of them had barely looked at each other.

Eronel might have been young at the time, but he had always had a good grasp of the unspoken. Perhaps, in their futile attempts to pretend that nothing was wrong, his parents had forgotten this.

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” he’d said to his mother once. She’d been helping him into his new leg contraption, figuring out the buckles and straps.

“What?” she’d cried, taking his small face into her hands. “Eronel, why would you say such a thing? None of this is your fault.”

“But you’re sad, and Adad is angry,” he’d said, hating the tremble in his voice. “Nothing is the same anymore and it’s my fault.”

“Oh, my love.” She’d hugged him tight, and when she’d pulled back, her face had looked so sad and drawn that Eronel had regretted bringing it up.

Now, as the carriage rumbles into motion, her face is taking on that same expression, the one that Eronel hates. He shares a glance with his siblings, who all raise silent eyebrows at him. They can all feel the tension rising from her like steam; Nethelion jerks his head in their mother’s direction. _Do something._   

Eronel stares at her until she can no longer pretend not to notice. Finally she turns to face him, opening her hands in silent permission for him to speak.

“You didn’t have to yell at your friend, Amad,” Eronel says evenly.

She sniffs. “I did not _yell_ at him.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You were scary,” Therin pipes up helpfully. He always rides with Eronel in the carriage, being yet too small to sit a pony. Nethelion and Rhuna usually do as well, but their mother never does, until today. She squeezes her lips into a thin line.

“I want to spare you from the eyes of the world, my son. There is much ignorance around us. If I can protect you from such, I will, and I refuse to apologize for it.”

“But you and Adad say it’s all right that people look at us. That it’s good to be different.”

“That is…different.” Tauriel is flustered. It is such a rare sight that Eronel tucks it away in his memory. “Of course I mean for you to be proud of who you are. But the prince was tactless, my love. I will not allow him to pass judgment on you.”

“I don’t think he meant to pass judgment. On either of us,” he adds pointedly, but softly. “He just wanted to know. And I think it’s good that he wants to get to know us. It means he’s trying to be a good friend. You should give him another chance, Amad.”

Nethelion gives mock applause at the end of this speech, and Eronel throws a shoe at him. Their mother laughs, breaking the somber mood that had weighed the carriage down.

“Oh, Eronel.” She hugs him, leaning close to speak softly into his ear. “If elves truly are the wisest of races, I believe you are the proof.”    

 

* * *

 

“So. There you have it,” Kili concludes as they make their way along the road. He and the elf prince have ridden ahead of the rest of their party, so that the rumble of hooves, carriage wheels, and the general noise of dwarves doesn’t obscure their talk. Their progress is slow and cumbersome as always, but Legolas does not seem impatient. He looks down at Kili, who sits as tall as he can manage upon his pony. 

In the wake of the story that has just been told, Legolas is without words. Kili is almost glad of this; he has not relived the day of Eronel’s injury in some time, and the retelling has knotted his stomach.

“I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy,” he continues, clearing his throat. “To see your child in pain such as that. It was a test like nothing I could have imagined.” He takes a breath, desperately wishing he could stop, but knowing that there is more Legolas should hear.

“Tauriel thought that she should be able to fix him, and I’m ashamed to say that I agreed. And when she couldn’t—“

“An injury like that would require a master healer,” Legolas interrupts, already springing to his old friend’s defense. “Our training with the guard could never prepare us for such as you’ve described.”

Kili nods. “And I wish that I would have seen that at the time. All I knew was that there was an elven healer in our midst and she did nothing.” He sighs. “I am afraid we made matters much more difficult for ourselves.”

It is hard, much harder than he would have imagined, to speak of this part. The senseless blame had sprung up an ugly barrier between himself and Tauriel in the wake of the accident. Their every interaction had been darkened, poisoned with accusations both spoken and unspoken. _Tell me it wasn’t my fault,_ she had begged him with her eyes. _Let me stop torturing myself._ Kili had seen her shame, and his heart had only hardened in response to it. _You let our child be broken,_ he’d told her with his careful avoidance of her touch, every night he’d slept with his back to her. Forgiveness had been far too slow in coming; it is a time that Kili is ashamed to recall.  

“But I assume that things have improved.”

“Oh, greatly. It took much time, and it’s still a bit of a sore spot at times. But one day we took a look at our brood and saw that we were the only ones still hung up on the past.” Kili grins now. “Eronel gets around well enough. He has brothers and a sister who would do anything for him. And when something doesn’t work, he either makes it work or does something different. Our son is _here,_ and he’s brilliant and good and capable—all the things you could want to see in your child. Of course we wish things had been different, but we go on. We have to.”

Legolas nods, looking a little bewildered by all the talk of parenthood. Kili finds it strange how young the elf prince seems compared to their last encounter. Then, he had reeked of authority and power, scowling at the company through prison bars. Now, however, Legolas seems somehow softer, less sure of himself. Kili finds himself looking up at his former captor with a kind of tenderness, almost in the manner of an uncle or some other such figure. The feeling is altogether bizarre.

Perhaps, Kili thinks with an internal chuckle, he has finally gained the wisdom and insight of a proper grown dwarf, befitting the new lines on his skin. Fili would laugh at that.

“I thought—I hoped—that this would be the day for me to make amends,” Legolas says finally, looking down at the horse’s mane beneath him. “Tauriel and I were close, once.”

“She speaks of you fondly. I think she always hoped the two of you would meet again.”

He shakes his fair blonde head. “I have ruined it, I fear.”

“Nah.” Kili gives him a reassuring grin. “It’s never too late. She just wants to know that you accept her. But here’s the trick: the children and I, we’re all part of the deal now. A friendship with her is going to require a lot of fraternizing with dwarves. Think you’re up for it?”

Legolas considers this. “I think…that can be arranged,” he says quietly.

“She’ll be glad to hear it. And speaking of which,” Kili goes on, keeping his tone offhand, “I know four half-elven travelers who are dying to talk with you.”

* * *

 

Dusk is finally beginning to fall; in the Mirkwood, this signals a window of mere minutes before full darkness descends. Tauriel has taken longer than strictly necessary to patrol the area surrounding their camp. The day has been long, and more eventful than she has had in quite some time, and she finds that she craves the soft voices of the forest to soothe her. But the return to camp, and to Legolas, cannot be put off forever. Sighing, she gently brushes the trees with her fingers as she passes between them, just as she had that morning.

Kili turns his head as she approaches, holding a finger to his lips. She gives him a quizzical look and turns in the direction of his gesturing hand. The sight that meets her nearly draws a gasp out of her chest, and she covers her mouth with both hands.

Legolas sits upon the forest floor, without a care for dirt on his clothing, with a skinny brown bat perched upon his finger. Her three younger children are crowded around him, sitting perfectly still so not to startle the little creature. Nethelion sits farther back, pretending that such activities are beneath his notice, but Tauriel sees him stealing curious glances at the group. Legolas clicks his tongue at the bat, which clicks back at him before winging away into the trees. Tauriel watches it go, recalling countless evenings spent with Legolas doing this very thing. They would sit side by side on the ground, keeping a tally of how many bats they could coax to swoop down and land on their fingers. It had been the only thing that could lift her spirits for a long while—a young, orphaned elleth with only one friend in the world.

“How did you do that?” Therin whispers, awed.

“A very old trick of the Eldar,” Legolas says with a conspiratorial smile. Rhuna laughs as she works on Eronel’s hair, attempting to copy the tiny, delicate braids that adorn Legolas’ head. Her efforts are crooked, making Eronel’s glossy black hair look like a spider’s nest, but Tauriel knows that he won’t complain.

Legolas looks at Eronel. “Lift your hand like this, and just wait. They will come. You are all Wood Elves, after all, and the forest recognizes its own.”

They wait with bated breath as Eronel lifts his slender hand into the air. Tauriel holds her breath as well, until a tiny bat swoops down to perch upon Eronel’s waiting finger. His smile seems to crack his face wide open as the creature blinks at him twice, then flies away again.

Rhuna laughs and thrusts her hand into the air, eager for a turn.

“Am I doing it right?” she asks Legolas, and he offers her a few words of advice, reaching over with care to relax her arm. He and Eronel exchange a secret grin, amused at her attempts to be still.

Tauriel’s heart swells at the sight. Here is the friend she had loved, who had been her companion for so many years. This is how she remembers him.

When a bat comes to perch on Rhuna’s finger she squeals in surprise, jerking her hand back. Nethelion laughs, drawing a deep scowl from her.

“Adad!” she protests.

“Son, don’t laugh at your sister until you’ve tried it yourself,” Kili replies in his no-nonsense way, only just managing to hide a chuckle. Nethelion shrugs and holds his hand in the air, looking at his sister with confident challenge in his eyes. Rhuna crosses her arms and turns away, catching sight of Tauriel as she does so.

“Amad, you’re back! Did you see the bats?”

Legolas turns around at Rhuna’s eager call, meeting Tauriel's eyes. He is still smiling from some interaction with Eronel, and the contentment on his face takes Tauriel back to a time before wars, before politics, before complications. He looks brand new, eased of all burdens for just a moment.  

“Your mother and I played this game often,” he says to her children, without moving his eyes from hers. “She always caught the most bats, every time.”

“So the prince of Mirkwood finally admits defeat?” Tauriel teases, emerging from the shadows to join the group. Legolas shifts over to make room for her.

“Much has changed since we last met, _mellon.”_

Tauriel nudges his shoulder with her hand, hoping that he catches the unspoken happiness in the action. Words would not do her feelings justice at this particular moment, and she takes one look at Legolas and knows he understands. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Kili’s encouraging look, and hears her children’s perpetual laughter and bickering around her. Darkness settles over them like a blanket; it will be their last night in the Mirkwood for some time, but the goodbye will not be forever.

“More will change in time. For both of us, I think.”

Legolas smiles.

“Then we will have more to talk about when we meet again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the last part! There was a lot to capture here (I have a LOT of headcanon for this crew), and I hope you enjoyed seeing the snippets :) Thank you, as always, for reading! All the kudos and comments have meant the world to me, and please don't hesitate to let me know what you think.
> 
> I think my next project is going to be a multi-chapter adventure starring these four dwelfs who I've grown to love so much :) Would anyone be interested in reading something like that? There would be moments of Kiliel, of course, and canon favorites would definitely make an appearance too. But it would mostly be a coming-of-age thing for the kiddos. Hopefully that's something you guys would consider reading, because I've already started working on it :) Thanks again for reading, I so appreciate it!


End file.
